


Never Again

by hitokiri



Series: Love Claims Possession [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crying Sam, Dean spanking Sam, Episode: s02e10 Hunted, M/M, Sam Won't Let His Brother Die, Spanking, implied bottom Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:20:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24381187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hitokiri/pseuds/hitokiri
Summary: Dean's temper got worse and worse the longer he thought about Sam leaving without a word and then almost getting himself killed by Gordon Walker. Sam deserves the punishment Dean dishes out, if only for scaring him.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Series: Love Claims Possession [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1760491
Comments: 6
Kudos: 75





	Never Again

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous ask:  
> "Have you done or pondered a spanking scene for after "Hunted" from Season 2? After Gordon's carted off to jail and they both make sure the other one's okay, Dean gets that look in his eyes, and Sam just knows... He knows what he's in for. And though he is adamant about looking for answers instead of running from them, he has to admit he has this one comming. But he's already getting butterflies in his stomach just thinking about it. 💜"
> 
> originally posted on tumblr May 24, 2020.

“Dude, you ever take off like that again...”

“What?” Sam asks, all snark, “You’d kill me?”

The look on Dean’s face shuts Sam up and wipes his grin. Dean squeezes the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white and keeps driving. He just spent the past twenty something hours freaked out because Sam disappeared, without a word, or a note, or a single goddamn text. And then he finds Sam being shot at by Gordon Walker and Dean swore to god that his heart fell into his stomach in fear.

Now that fear has dissipated into hard, cold _anger_ and he wants Sam to hurt for the pain he caused Dean. Thinking Sam walked right into Gordon’s trap and got himself killed... he’s only had Sam back for just over a year, after not having seen him for four when he went away to Stanford. Sam almost died tonight and Dean doesn’t- he has no fucking idea what he would have done if he lost his little brother.

He sees an exit coming up, marking motels and fast food. He makes a split second decision and turns at the exit. Either Sam doesn’t care or he realized that speaking right now isn’t the best choice, but he stays quiet regardless, letting Dean do what he’s doing.

Pulling into the motel parking lot, he parks by the office and doesn’t have to say anything because he knows Sam will stay. He climbs out and talks to the clerk to get their room key -- two queens, all the way at the end -- and climbs back into the Impala to drive them to their room. They unload their bags from the trunk in silence and Dean holds open the door for Sam to step into their room. Sam automatically goes for the bed furthest from the door and Dean smirks in satisfaction that he has his little brother trained so well.

“On your knees, Sam.”

Sam whirls around to face him, confusion in his eyes. “Dean--”

“If I have to repeat myself, you won’t like it.”

Sam drops down onto his knees, obedient yet reluctant. He crosses his wrists behind his back without Dean asking him to and Dean nods, satisfied. He walks a circle around him, admiring his posture, before stopping just in front of him. Dean’s tented jeans are lined up perfectly with Sam’s face and he presses his crotch forward, bumps it against Sam’s nose briefly. Sam gasps in a breath but holds still. He undoes his pants and presses the tip of his dick against Sam’s parted lips. Presses harder and bumps Sam’s teeth but pulls back, stepping away completely. Sam’s body sways forward automatically and Dean smirks at his boy’s need.

“No, baby brother,” he says, smugness bleeding through, “You don’t deserve this, do you? You don’t deserve my cock, or my come.” He gives his dick a few slow jerks with a sweaty palm, his precome helping slick the way. “And you don’t get to come tonight either, but...” He tucks himself back into his pants reluctantly, hissing when his jeans rub against his hard cock. “You need to be taught a lesson.

“Disappearing without a word? Almost getting yourself killed? Oh, Sammy,” Dean growls, walking right back up to Sam and lifting him from the ground by his hair. Sam hisses and stands on shaky legs. His jeans are as strained as Dean’s are and Dean knows it has to hurt. “I’m gonna make it so sitting hurts for a week.

“Now get your clothes off and get on the bed, hands and knees.” He leaves his own clothes on to resist the temptation of Sam’s perfect little pert ass, lets the reminder of the pain from the tightness of his jeans keep him grounded. Sam does as he’s told, crawling on hands and knees onto the bed -- _Dean’s_ bed because Dean loves the reminder -- and waiting patiently. He presses a palm against his erection to stave it off; the sight of Sam presented to him like this is enough to make a man go crazy.

Dean is a hunter, a predator, and he can be silent when he needs, deadly. Sam is his unwitting prey, spread and needy for him, waiting with baited breath.

When Dean’s palm touches the meat of Sam’s round ass, Sam jumps as if not expecting it. He’s always jumpy at first contact, scared yet turned on. It gets Dean going like no other. “Shh,” he whispers, a soothing lull that has Sam’s shoulders relaxing as Dean trails calloused hands up Sam’s smooth, muscled back. He lingers on Sam’s shoulder blades for a moment, leaning down to kiss his left one. He stands to the side of the bed, just touching the little brother he almost lost today. Gets a good feel for this disobedient little shit that scared the hell out of Dean today. Waking up to Sam’s empty bed was like a nightmare in and of itself. He can’t let that happen again.

Pulling his hand back, he gives Sam no warning before laying a loud _smack_ against Sam’s left buttock. It wiggles at the force of the hit and he watches as Sam’s ass _clenches_. The sting of his palm means that that hurt Sam more than Sam is showing, and that won’t do. He’s going to make Sam cry out with every hit; make it hurt so that Sam can’t even _think_ about hiding his pain. He lifts his hand again and gives Sam’s right buttock the same treatment, only harder this time, watching in satisfaction as his hand leaves a red mark and Sam’s ass clenches again. Still no sound, though.

“Sweetheart,” Dean teases, satisfied at Sam’s little wiggle. “Keepin’ quiet don’t mean I’m gonna be easy on you.” He gets no response so he shrugs and brings his hand down harder. That elicits a whimper from Sam, his hips moving forward as if to get away from the smack of Dean’s hand. His palm is warm from the abuse and he presses it against the hot flesh of Sam’s ass, squeezing and digging his short nails into the abused skin. Brings over his left hand and does the same with Sam’s other cheek. Sam lets out a delicious whine, trying to pull away, but Dean’s stronger and Sam’s exactly where he wants him. “Okay, kiddo, no more teasing. I’m gonna make it hurt and I’m not gonna feel bad about it.” He lays a fourth, harder smack, which stings the hell out of his hand, and grunts out, “Your tears are encouraged, baby.”

He’s ruthless in his hits, alternating from cheek to cheek, never laying up until he’s at twelve spanks to each cheek and Sam is a whining mess. He’s long since fallen flat onto the bed -- his knees gave out and Dean helped spread them out -- clinging to the sheets with his one good hand, the one in the cast lying limp across the bed. His face is buried in the pillow but Dean can still hear his cries. Dean’s going to be hard all night knowing that the pillow he’s going to rest his head on is covered in his little brother’s salty tears.

Six more swift spanks and Sam kicks his feet against the mattress, begging now. Dean’s name a broken word falling from his lips. He soothes the hurt briefly with stinging hands against raised, red flesh. Sam whimpers because even that has to hurt. Dean’s never loved the color red more in his life. Sammy is just so pretty red and broken like this, by Dean’s hands.

“Shh, shh, darlin’,” he coos, leaning over Sam to whisper in his ear. “Give me eight more and then I’ll let you rest, okay, Sammy? Just eight. Once we hit thirty, you can sleep as long as you want- I’ll get you pancakes.” Sam nods shakily against the pillow, hair matted to his cheeks and forehead from the pillow and his own sweat and tears. Dean smooths it out of the way and smiles tenderly, says, “That’s my good boy. Eight more,” before resuming his brutal hits, four to each abused buttock, and when he’s done he sits on the bed and pulls Sam’s head into his lap, petting his wet hair. “You did so good, baby, so good for your big brother.” He rocks Sam in his lap, praising him. Sam’s a mess of tears and snot but Dean still thinks he’s the most beautiful thing in the world. “Never do that again, Sam, you hear me? _Never_.”

Sam sniffles, hiding his face in Dean’s stomach, breathing in the scent of laundry detergent and _Dean_. “Okay, Dean,” he whispers with a voice completely wrecked. “I w-won’t, I promise.”

“Good boy.”

**Author's Note:**

> Again, if you have any prompts for an episode tag where you think Dean should spank Sammy (either for fun or because Dean needs a different means of taking out his anger on Sam that doesn't have to do with putting him down and making Sam feel like shit), hit me at sunflowersammy on tumblr!


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